


Spit Me Out

by Honeythief



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Canon, Ciel in Sieglinde's dress, Established Relationship, Green Witch Arc, Jealous Ciel Phantomhive, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeythief/pseuds/Honeythief
Summary: Ciel didn't realise, until Germany, just how much he craved to be his demon's one and only.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 17
Kudos: 182





	Spit Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> >be me  
> >just finished Kuro manga update  
> >click on a random chapter because procrastination  
> >Green Witch Arc, ok why not, reread  
> >proceed to shit out a fic because it's not like you have anything else to write right now, not at all  
> >share it!

Around the back and under the knees. Held just as close, with the same amount of care. Head leaning right where Ciel liked to nestle his own, eyes drifting closed in a sign of trust. And so gently he set her down; a young lady instead of a young master. Did he even notice a difference? Wearing his clothes, the same size, imbued with his scent... washed clean off the blood that had stained her up to the elbows, all fresh and pretty while Ciel stood covered in dust and grime.

And was it any different, while 'the curse' ravaged his master's body, to play butler for somebody else? Did he pour her tea the same way and smile the same smile? Did he give her _that look_ , half-lidded and heavy below his dark lashes, the one that had Ciel squeezing his thighs together beneath the table and counting every minute until dusk? Was none of it just for him?

Ciel shivered under the tailcoat Sebastian had draped over his shoulders. He wanted to throw it off and stomp around on it, screaming. Make it dirtier than his dress, poke holes bigger than those in his stockings. Rip it apart like the demon had almost ripped out his soul.

But all Ciel did was refuse to lean on Sebastian's arm as they went up the stairs, led by Diedrich's servant to the bedroom most worthy of the Phantomhive Earl – vast, palatial, holding a promise of comfort that could not seem to him less inviting. He'd rather fight another tank; at least it had kept him busy. It had kept his mind off that dwelling, desolate ache in his heart, sicker than envy.

The door clicked shut, and Sebastian moved closer before he could tell him not to.

“My poor little master,” he crooned, voice lined with mockery that cut the boy deeper than ever. “How tired you must be.” He tugged off his glove, licked his thumb and swiped it over a speck of dirt on Ciel's cheek. With a quiet _tsk_ , he angled his chin to examine the bruise on his jaw. “Really. All of this, as soon as I leave your side. Quite hopeless.” He shook his head, wrinkling his brows in what Ciel would no longer mistake for concern.

How could his touch be so tender, when not too long ago he had tightened his shadowy vines around his every limb and shoved them in every orifice? _This_ had been the true miasma, more poisonous than the gas. The memory sat deep in Ciel's gut, itched at him worse than the blisters, and now that they were alone it surged up to his throat like bile. With the mouth that could tell no lies, the demon had confessed to it himself: that he may not have been wholly serious, but more serious than not.

Ciel would not forget it so soon, or maybe not ever. He would carry it right until the moment it happened for real.

“A hot bath would be wonderful, no?” Sebastian smiled at him with warmth that served only to thicken the ice in Ciel's veins. “And while you do seem quite comfortable in that dress, my lord, I think it's time for it to come off.” He winked and reached to unlace the ribbon at his back, voice lowered to that intimate purr he used only when they were alone—a language they dared not speak outside of the earl's chambers.

He made it sound so easy, almost as though nothing had changed. Perhaps Sebastian, unlike his master, had harboured no delusions. He could move on, just like that, and it turned the ice in Ciel's veins into fire.

He grabbed the lapels of Sebastian's waistcoat and steered him through the room, toward the canopied bed in the middle, until the back of his knees met the mattress. He sat down and Ciel pushed him back, watched him fall. Stood looking.

Even this— _especially_ this—was not for him alone. Centuries of lovers had come before him while Ciel had never known another's touch, had never known anything better.

He reached under the dress and slipped off his panties, kicking angrily as they caught on his ankle. He climbed atop Sebastian's lap until the dress pooled in heavy folds around their hips, censoring the view. He rubbed himself against the demon's crotch and felt him stir.

“Young master, it would do you well to have some rest first— or at the very least allow me to run you that bath before we—”

Ciel slapped a hand to his mouth. “It would do you well to shut up,” he said, trapping Sebastian's hot breath under his palm. And how dirty was that palm, scraped and smeared with forest soil; clad in a netted glove full of rips, hanging just barely from his middle finger on a string of lace.

“Clean them,” Ciel commanded, shoving two of his fingers into Sebastian's mouth, straight into the maw of the beast. For now that mouth has only ever given him pleasure, but he knew it would not last.

He watched the demon lick and suck as he'd been ordered, running and swirling that skilled tongue in a way that sent stabs of heat to his quivering belly. Ciel knew what else that tongue could do, and how well those lips could wrap around something more than just fingers, and remembered those deep smoky eyes looking up with that same unblinking intensity from between his legs... 

A wave of lust rushed staggering through his body, and he bunched a fist into the butler's crisp white shirt to withstand it. He thumbed at one of its buttons only to recall the feeling of Sebastian's skin against his own, and the smoothness of it beneath his fingers, and the taste of it on his tongue— 

How long has it been? Long. That first night in the forest, when Sieglinde crept up to spy at their door, Sebastian was kneeling before him with his cheek nuzzled against the side of his thigh and was kissing, with reverence, what bare skin peeked out from under the wool of his shorts. And Ciel was already spreading his legs for him, all heady and thrumming with a pent-up promise of more, when Sebastian stilled and took his lips from the curve of his knee. He opened the door before Sieglinde could hear something she wasn't meant to, letting her stumble into the room and fling herself onto the bed— bed whose sheets, in Ciel's mind, were already stained with sweat and come and maybe blood (maybe, if Sebastian fucked him just right and behaved well enough to deserve a treat). But instead of writhing in pleasure beneath his demon, Ciel had to spend the whole night on babysitting a witch.

And shortly thereafter, he could not stand the mere thought of his touch. No wonder the beast had snapped.

Ciel pulled out from Sebastian's mouth and inspected his fingers from every angle. Clean, pink, moist with saliva. “Not bad,” he breathed, then brought the hand under his skirt. Slipped it between his cheeks and opened himself just enough, eager for it to hurt like it hurt that first night, shivering at the memory of his demon's blazing eyes and blazing, unquenchable desire he had not even tried to tame.

Desire that has since burned into low embers, desire of which he was no longer worthy. So seldom he lost control now; so calm were his garnet eyes.

Ciel bit at his lip, eased out his fingers and found the button on Sebastian's fly. He took hold of his cock and stroked it roughly into full hardness, hot and heavy inside the sore, delicate palm of his hand.

“My lord, please, you're tired—”

“I said shut it.”

And Sebastian said nothing more as Ciel took all of him all at once, and stayed silent as he began to roll his hips in a harsh rhythm of up and down. Ciel, too, breathed not a word; he could only gasp, and hiss, and moan. It hurt so good. No matter how many times they did this, the pleasure always took him by surprise. It curled his toes, raised his voice to an embarrassing pitch and clouded his mind.

Ciel chased it. He braced himself upon the demon's chest and moved, one hand folded on top of the other, pressing down as if to revive a heart that had stopped beating—only Sebastian's had never beat to begin with, certainly not like Ciel's own.

Because Ciel's, as it turned out, beat for Sebastian. After he'd specifically instructed it not to. After he'd taken such care to make it the most barren, unwelcoming of places. Habitable only by hatred, hankering only for revenge... and this beast below him was never supposed to become more than means toward that very end. 

No matter; tonight he was only a thing, a toy. Mounted and used like a slave, and Ciel did just that. Rode on his lap and decided that the beast would not even be allowed to come, not even if it begged him. Yes, he liked that thought very much. Leaving him all hard and unspent after his master had taken his pleasure. All he needed to do was not run out of breath, and ignore the stirring throb in his thighs, and find that spot that Sebastian never missed—but he kept missing, and he kept tiring. He faltered off-rhythm, recalling the delightful force and precision of the demon's thrusts, the tireless muscles that could lift him off the bed like he weighed not a single pound... and when Ciel begged for _harder_ or _faster_ or just _more_ , he always gave him more. Always gave it to him exactly how he needed.

Ciel groaned. He focused on the rise and fall of his hips, swatting Sebastian's hand whenever it ventured too far. It tried to peek under his dress, snake around his thigh and squeeze his buttock; it toyed with his earring and ghosted over his nape until he shuddered and shook it off; it brushed over his clavicle and fingered at the choker that hugged his neck in black lace; it fumbled with the dress, worked at its strings and buttons until it slipped halfway off his shoulders and rubbed against the pink, hard nubs of his nipples with every thrust. And as it hooked a finger at the hem of his cleavage, Ciel caught it in a fist and trapped it finally against his chest, digging his dirtied nails into the seal of their contract—a contract that had almost been broken. Laying claim to a worthless soul, it seemed, if it could be wolfed down like a quick snack, not even savoured. Sucked out without ceremony as though it were just anyone's. 

Ciel dropped the hand, suddenly disgusted, and when it returned for more it was no longer alone. Two frivolous, insolent hands. Ciel could not find it within himself to resist them. They stroked his hips through the dress but did not push him down, did not help him lift up. They found something offensive about the sleeves and ripped them in half, one by one at the elbows, then tossed them blindly out of sight. They went up to tweak and rub at his nipples, cupping his chest as though he were a _girl_ , like—

Ciel snarled, grabbed the demon's wrists, pinned them on either side of his head and dropped himself on his cock so violently it knocked the air out of his lungs. Hurting only himself, of course. Tearing a pitiful cry from his own lips. Making his head swim and his vision go black, if just briefly, before he blinked through the daze and found that he was blinking away a tear. He hated that tear, and choked it back. Sebastian had been impatient with his weakness, and Ciel would not show him more.

Except weakness was all he could feel. His thighs were trembling, skin sweating under the heavy fabric, heart thumping so fast he felt dizzy. And how high he had to lift himself each time, just to slide the length halfway out, and soon his hips were no longer bouncing but only rocking, pushing uselessly back then forth until they dropped one last time and refused to move. Everything throbbed, everything ached. Ciel sat sill, leaned just inches above the demon's face, clenching around his cock and glaring at him hatefully through the sweaty locks that hung over his eyes. Panting harshly with exertion, with frustration. Wishing he could snap his wrists like the twigs had snapped beneath his feet in the forest.

Sebastian sighed. “Now, what did I tell you? You're no good today, my lord. I've seen you do much better.”

Ciel tried to lift his limp arm and slap him, but Sebastian was faster. His hands clawed into the dress and _ripped_ , with terrible strength, the entire skirt clean off the bodice, flinging it across the room to join the torn sleeves. Not much remained of Sieglinde's pretty, rich dress. There was not much it could cover. It revealed his flushed cock, milky skin mottled with bruises, and the black stockings full of holes that ran halfway up his thighs.

Ciel's cheeks burned hot and bright through the dirt. He looked like a battered whore; dragged across the ground and fucked in the back of a filthy alley.

Sebastian licked his lips, eyes lighting up with red and sharp teeth flashing white in the semi-dark. Why? Why was it back? That hunger, as if Ciel was the most delicious thing he's ever seen and he was _not_.

The hands were back, too. Aggressive now, bolder, as though knowing they would no longer be defied. They circled his tiny waist, squeezed like a vice until it hurt, lifted him slowly all the way off his cock—and then slammed him back down.

Ciel's eyes flew wide and his jaw hinged open and he all but screamed. It hurt too good, he couldn't take it, how was this even possible?

“I hate you,” he sobbed as Sebastian jerked him up and down in his lap, “I hate you I hate you I hate you I _hate you_ —”

And he would keep telling Sebastian how much he hated him, over and over again, but his tongue could no longer form words and sat slack in his mouth, idle, unable even to stop the trickle of drool from rolling down his chin. Lewd, hoarse moans tore through his throat and he did not care to keep them down, did not care they might echo off the castle's walls more than they did off his mansion's—and then Sebastian's hands slid from his waist to his hips and he fucked him even harder, squeezing all the unwanted tears from his eyes until they traced twin paths through the dirt on his face.

Ciel's head lolled back, heavy on his neck, and he cried his orgasm at the canopy of the bed, soiling what little remained of Sieglinde's dress with his come. He felt like fainting, body barely upright, _exhausted_ , and Sebastian's breath was growing heavier and heavier.

“Don't come,” Ciel wheezed, “don't you dare come in me, it's an—”

But Sebastian was already coming, thrusting up his hips and grinding Ciel's down, violating the unspoken order. _Growling,_ like a beast, as he filled him. 

Ciel whimpered and almost swayed forward; almost, for he realised that to sway forward would be to fall into Sebastian's arms, and he mustered some errant residue of strength to draw himself back. Not one of his muscles came at his call, and just as he began to tip over the edge of the bed, he was saved by the same arms he'd tried so hard to avoid. Sebastian pulled him back into safety of his embrace and held on tight, almost tight enough to smother. As though he would have lost him if he hadn't stopped the fall.

His lips brushed above his ear and Ciel knew they were going to open up and _speak_ , he knew it well and brought his hand up to hush him. Because whatever was about to come out of the demon's mouth would not be the sweet white lies he wished just this once to hear; it would be the bitter truth he could not swallow, the truth he had been able to live with only because it was left unspoken.

He dreaded taking his hand off that mouth—and then he took it off.

“Please listen, master, for I will say it just this once.” Sebastian's voice came calmly, inevitably. Quietly, as if it could lessen the blow it was about to deliver. “I am offended, above all, that after everything you would question how much you mean to me, or how much I want you. Must I truly explain that you are my dearest, loveliest master? Never doubt that you are special to me, my little lord.” He kissed the top of Ciel's head. “I see only you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeahhh I know Seb would most likely never say something like that but I was feeling kind of sappy, happens rarely but there it is
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed~ And if you did, please _please_ let me know!!


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